


2000 Miles

by fromthechaos



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: ) Body piercings, F/M, emily is secretly a heterosexual bad girl, tattoos and smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-02
Updated: 2008-12-17
Packaged: 2018-10-15 22:29:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10558750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthechaos/pseuds/fromthechaos
Summary: Hotch's ear problem is bothering him after an explosion in the field. Emily takes it upon herself to get him back to Quantico safely and Shenanigans ensue.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I admit it. I've been reading Hotchily.
> 
> Imported from my LJ Community, Originally posted December 2, 2008

Emily zipped up her rarely worn jeans that she kept in her ready bag. They’d wrapped up their case in Phoenix the night before, complete with a spectacular Morgan tackle launched across the room at the unsub who’d just blown up the police cruiser that he thought a key witness was in. To his dismay, it was an empty dummy but the explosion had left Hotch reeling. He had tried to mask it as if it was nothing, but she knew better. She knew that concussive ear and head trauma took longer than a few months to shake off, to truly heal and the explosion probably set him back a few weeks. Besides that, she cared about him… more she was apt to admit out loud. The last thing she needed was anyone—especially her mother—thinking that she’d now _slept_ her way into being recognized by the team, especially after being under Aaron Hotchner’s constant scrutiny for the last two years.  


Shifting the ready bag onto her shoulder, Emily stood up, slipping her room key into her pocket, walking across the hall to the Unit Chief’s room, knocking heavily on the door. Her breath hitched as Hotch opened the door, giving her a curious look. “Good morning,” he said.  


“Morning. You know, Hotch, you should really tell us when your ears are bothering you,” Emily put her hands on her hips, her left shoulder cocked up to hold her bag up, “not try to hide it like Mr. Tough Guy.”  


Hotch shook his head, turning to walk back down the short hallway toward the dresser and his still-steaming coffee cup. “I’m fine, Prentiss.”  


“You’re not. If you’ll forgive the expression, sir, I’d go so far as to say that’s bullshit.”  


Straightening his tie, Hotch looked up at her. “Please don’t stand that way.”  


“Stand what way?” Emily glanced down at herself, seeing no problem with standing the way she was.  


“Like my wife used to before, if you’ll excuse the expression, she was ready to eat my balls for breakfast.” A small, rare smile crept across Hotch’s lips, curling up to a sparkle in his eyes. “At ease, soldier.”  


Emily shrugged her bag down onto the ground with a laugh, hooking her thumbs into the front pockets of her jeans. “Hotch, you’re in no shape to fly and it’s a three day drive back to Quantico.”  


Dark hazel eyes met brown across the room with raised eyebrows. “Drive? You can’t be serious.”  


“As a heart attack. I’m not letting you on that plane.”  


“Not letting me?” Hotch laughed incredulously. “And how do you plan to stop me?”  


Emily nudged the ready bag with her foot. “Well, I have handcuffs, should the need arise.”  


“Be careful, Prentiss. In some circles that might get you kissed,” Hotch quipped without thinking. He sat down on the bed, tightening his tie. “So, I drive three days alone… I don’t like he idea even if my ears do.”

  


Emily scoffed. “I said absolutely nothing about alone.”

  


A jingling of keys drew the Unit Chief’s eyes up to the Tahoe keyfob hanging from Emily’s index finger. “No.” He shook his head. “No, no, absolutely not.”

  


“And why not? I have an exemplary driving record and it’s my name on the requisition sheet for this bad boy.”

  


“Because I’ve seen _Thelma and Louise_ , that’s why.”

  


Emily countered her boss’s smirk with a raised eyebrow, “What if I promise not to send us into the Grand Canyon?”

  


“And you won’t blow up any tankers?” Hotch’s smile slipped onto his lips again.

  


“Not if I can help it, sir.” Emily smiled back, her dimples deepening.

  


Hotch took a deep breath, slipping on his Italian leather shoes. “What will you tell the others?”

  


Emily had been prepared for this and she simply smiled. “I already informed them, they’ve been at the airfield for twenty minutes now. You’re in no shape to drive, Morgan’s already done this with you once, Rossi has a meeting with Strauss in six hours, you’d probably eat Todd alive… and, well…” She snickered, “We’ve all seen Reid’s driving. The flight might be less traumatizing… so I was the natural choice.”

  


He looked at Emily Prentiss with wonder and a hint of newfound respect. The woman had as much leadership skill as him with fewer years in the Bureau; she clearly had some of her mother’s skill at handling people. She’d managed to get the whole team to follow her lead. If he wasn’t careful, she’d be taking his job from him, though there were some mornings where he considered handing it to her on a silver platter. “I’m driving.”

  


Emily scoffed again, her ponytail shaking from side to side, falling with a curl around her neck. “Oh, no… I’m not stupid, sir, I know about ear trauma and the correlation with dizzy spells.” She smirked, pocketing the keys. “You’re not driving.”

  


Hotch raised both eyebrows, standing up, finishing his coffee with a long sip. “So not only are you a top-notch profiler on the Bureau’s best team, you also have a medical degree.” He smirked, walking into the bathroom to rinse out his empty cup. “I don’t recall seeing that in your file.”

  


“I don’t have a medical degree, _sir_ , but I do read. I read up on concussive ear trauma after your diagnosis.”

  


He had to hold back a chuckle. “And why on earth would you do that?” He asked, poking his head out of the bathroom.

  


“Consider it keeping an eye on you.” She leaned against the doorframe, unconsciously canting her hips in an effortlessly sexy way.

  


Despite his best efforts to resist, his eyes swept over her frame, taking her in. He tried to bite back the smile that forced its way onto his lips as he wondered if Prentiss had any grasp of her own innate sexuality, if she knew the things that such a simple whisper of body language could do to a man—could do to him. He finally looked away, reaching for his ready bag and briefcase. “Well, we’d better get going, then. I want to get as far as we can before stopping for rest.”

  


“I’m bringing my iPod because we’re _not_ listening to NPR the whole way.”

  


“Hey, I don’t listen to NPR _all_ the time.” He gestured toward the door, nodding. “Ladies first.”

  


With a swish of hips and pony tailed hair, Emily hoisted her bag and turned on her heel in one smooth motion, leading Hotch down to the concierge to check out of their rooms before leading him to the Tahoe. She popped open the back hatch, tossing her bag and laptop case into the back, fishing her iPod and sunglasses out of her purse. “Mind if I smoke in the car?”

  


“Smoke what?” Hotch asked with an eyebrow quirked.

  


“Cloves, Hotch.” She smirked, thinking to herself that a little something else might loosen him up enough for a bit of fun. “Though I do also smoke regular cigarettes sometimes. This road trip just feels clove-y.” She smiled

  


“I didn’t know you smoked.” He shrugged, tossing his own bag into the back. “No, I don’t mind. That is, if you don’t mind me telling you the millions of ways you’re shortening your life span while you do that.”

  


Emily sighed dramatically, “Arsenic and nicotine are far more romantic than slit wrists or heads in ovens.”

  


“Is that Dylan Thomas?”

  


“Not quite,” she smirked, “Emily Prentiss.” She climbed into the driver’s seat, plugging her iPod in, tucking her cigarettes and sunglasses into the cup holder before buckling her seatbelt.

  


Hotch made a face as he climbed in, adjusting the seat for his height. “Who sat here last, one of Santa’s Elves?”

  


“Agent Todd, sir.”

  


“Hmm…” He nodded, buckling his seatbelt. “You know, I feel…”

  


“Over dressed for a road trip?”

  


“Perhaps,” he replied, loosening his tie before slipping it over his head, tossing it in the back seat. He then unbuttoned his sleeves, rolling them up, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his oxford. “I haven’t done this in a very long time… too long. And please,” his eyes met hers, pleading, “stop calling me sir. It drives me crazy, my father was sir.”

  


“Sorry, Hotch,” she laughed. “It just feels so much like I’m still on the clock.”

  


Looking at her seriously, Hotch shook his head. “Well, we’re not. We won’t be until we get back to Quantico, alright?”

  


She nodded her affirmative. “Yes, s—” she caught herself, “I mean, of course, Hotch.”

  


“We’ll work on it… Emily.” 

  


He grinned impishly and Emily blushed a bit. “Alright then…” She reached over, hitting play on her iPod. Bowie poured through the Tahoe’s speakers as she pulled out of the hotel parking lot, following the GPS’s chirpy cues to the highway.

  


Hotch reached over, turning down the volume a bit, tapping his ears to remind Emily exactly why they were in the car to begin with. “I knew it.”

  


“Knew what?”

  


“You’re Thelma and I refuse to be Louise.” Hotch laughed, feeling strangely comfortable letting his stoic façade down around the curvy brunette.

  


“I always pictured you as more of a J.D. than a Louise…” She laughed, her pony tail swaying again. Hotch tried not to be mesmerized.

  


“Yeah, that might work,” he nodded. “But you’re still not allowed to blow up any tankers,” he quipped, leaning back, crossing his arms.

  


“Yeah, well, then you’re not allowed to steal the money.” She stuck out her tongue playfully.

  


“None of it? Not even a little?” He teased.

  


“Nope.”

  


“Well, then, I guess I will just have to find other ways to entertain myself,” Hotch declared, laughing softly. _My God,_ he thought to himself, _I’m joking around with her. I’m joking around period. This banter… I almost forgot what it felt like._

  


“You certainly will, J.D.” Emily grinned, “Who knows, maybe you can teach me how to rob a bank while we’re at it…”

  


“Once you’re with me, there is no turning back.”

  


Emily smiled, watching the road ahead of her, reaching over idly some time later to turn the air conditioning on. “Damn Arizona… it’s always so hot.”

  


“The heat never bothered me, I grew up in Virginia. Didn’t you spend time in the Middle East as a child?” 

  


“Yes,” Emily smiled wistfully, “and I complained the entire time. Then again, when I was five, complaining got my father to dote on me more.”

  


“A daddy’s girl?” He was surprised, Emily never struck him as one to pout for attention from anyone, rather command it from everyone.

  


“Breathe a word of that to the team and I’ll make good on that handcuff threat.”

  


Hotch laughed, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “What happens in the Tahoe stays in the Tahoe. On my honor.”

  


It was Emily’s turn to laugh. “Let me guess, scout’s honor?” She smirked, her dimples deepening again, “Were you an _Eagle_ Scout, Hotch?”

  


“That is nothing to be embarrassed about… except that it probably sounds like I’m embarrassed. I’m not. It’s a distinguished honor.”

“Awww,” Emily teased, “It’s cute. Nerdy… but adorable.”  
  
Narrowing his eyes, Hotch murmured, “Adorable… humph. Yeah well, we nerds must just recognize each other when we’re up close. _Kilgore Trout_ ringing any bells?”  


Emily rolled her eyes, “Own a few first edition Vonneguts and you’re suddenly as nerdy as an Eagle Scout.”

  


“Yes,” Hotch agreed, “you are. Live with it.”

  


Hotch closed his eyes as her soft laughter filled the SUV. “Well, then, we won’t mention that ‘a few’ means ‘nine’ or that I’ve been to more than a few comic book conventions in my time. My nerdiness is stealthy… like a nerd ninja…” She smirked.

  


“No, it’s… _adorable,_ actually.” Hotch turned his head, looking out the window.

  


A shiver ran down Emily’s back at his words and she blushed, goosebumps spreading and softening over her arms and chest, her nipples stiffening against her already tight and clingy tank top making her normally hidden nipple ring painfully evident against the soft cotton of her shirt and the thin lace bra between. Emily rolled her eyes as the gas gauge blinked, reminding her that she was now low on gas. “My god, this Tahoe gets shit mileage.”

  


“Hmm?” Hotch turned to look at her, his eyes catching sight of the state of her tank top, his eyes lingering on the now visible nipple ring. He tried to turn away but couldn’t, his eyes wide as surprised and surprisingly naughty thoughts fluttered through his mind. Emily groaned, putting on the blinker, easing off the highway. Hotch shook free the cobwebs that her state had spun in his head, looking up at her. “What are you doing, Prentiss?”

  


“Getting gas. Didn’t you hear me? This Tahoe has shit mileage.”

  


His eyes had wandered back to her breast, losing all focus. He shook his head again, still unable to snap way, “I’m sorry, what?”

  


She spoke slowly, as if speaking to a deaf child. “We. Are. Out. Of. Gas.” She glanced over at Hotch, his eyes jumping up to hers as she did. “Is your hearing giving you trouble?”

  


“No! … No…” Hotch shook his head, coming back to reality. “I’m okay.”

  


Emily raised an eyebrow as she pulled up to the gas pump, hopping out. She opened the back hatch to fish out her wallet and the Bureau issue credit card for work purchases. Hotch looked up just at the exact second that Emily was reaching up to close the hatch. His eyes swept over her body appreciatively in the security of the passenger mirror, his eyes pausing on a flourish of Arabic script tattooed on her left hipbone before being distracted by a sparkle just above, a small barbell tucked into the younger agent’s belly button. Hotch could hardly believe his eyes as he stared, blinking and shaking his head as he tried to will away the sudden pressure between his legs. A strangled groan escaped from deep inside of him as he struggled to free the seatbelt holding him in the passenger seat. He scrambled out, making double-time into the mini mart, as if scrambling from a burning car. Emily watched him, both eyebrows arched. “You alright, Hotch?” She yelled after him, watching as he shrugged haphazardly, nearly colliding with the sliding doors before they had a chance to open for him. Emily shook her head, starting the pump before sauntering into the mini mart after him. 

  


While she was busy outside, Hotch had discovered the calming effect of standing in front of an open refrigerator, the cold air taking the flush from his cheeks and taking care of other certain discomforts. _Dear God,_ he thought, _Why now? Why this… this woman? Anyone but this woman. I don’t want to think about Emily that way and now I can’t help it. A nipple ring? A navel ring? A tattoo? You are so cruel._ He cursed, looking up at the ceiling. He looked ahead, grabbing two of the bottles of Vitamin Water before him and a pair of Snickers bars off of the door. He turned and walked toward the counter, not realizing Emily was standing a few feet away, nearly mowing her down as she skimmed the headlines of the day’s paper. He dropped the two bottles and candy bars, his hands instinctively grasping her hips as she lost balance. She laughed, stumbling, turning in his grasp. “Oh, God, I’m… I’m so sorry…” He trailed off, feeling the sudden tingle in his fingers where they were pressed against her hips. 

  


She smiled shyly, regaining her balance. “It’s okay, Hotch…” she trailed off, looking up into his eyes.

  


“I didn’t mean… I got you a vitamin water. And a snickers.” He smiled.

  


A blush flushed her cheeks and Emily looked away. “It’s… thanks... Hotch.” She smiled again, wider.

  


Hotch dropped his hands away from her waist, taking a couple of steps back, kneeling to pick up the fallen bottles and candy bars, standing slowly. “I’d better pay for this… you want that paper?”

  


She shook her head, folding it and depositing it back on the stack. “Nah,” she smiled, “Just seeing what the headlines were.”

  


“Right,” he nodded, turning quickly away. _Good Job, idiot,_ he thought to himself, _she probably thinks you’re insane now._

  


Emily shook her head, taking a deep breath as Hotch walked away, pressing her palm lightly against her forehead. _Whoa there, hormones,_ she thought, _how about we don’t jump the boss in the middle of a redneck seven eleven, hmm?_

  


Hotch turned to her, walking toward the door, bottles and candy bars in hand. “Ready?”

  


“Yeah,” Emily looked up, smiling with a weak nod, her body still electrified from Hotch’s touch.

  


“You okay?” He paused, cocking his head, eyes awash with concern.

  


She nodded, smiling widely, “Perfect. You?”

  


“Just fine.” He held out a bottle of “Focus” water and one of the Snickers bars. “I can take over driving if you’re not up to it.”

  


Emily nodded, trading him the keys for the offering of food and drink, “We can alternate by tanks of gas. But if you feel off… Hotch, swear you’ll pull off and we’ll switch.”

  


“I’ll be fine,” he insisted. “I’ve been driving for over two decades… I can handle it.”

  


“Riight, sorry,” Emily smirked. “I nearly forgot that, _old man_.” She hung the pump back up, closing the tank.

  


“Thanks _kiddo_.” He grinned, climbing into the driver’s seat.

  


Emily stood for a moment, staring at the Tahoe, a hand instinctively rubbing over her stomach, trying to ease the deep coiling tingle beneath. “Down girl…” She murmured before climbing into the car, her eyes settling on Hotch as she fastened her seatbelt.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hotch's ear problem is bothering him after an explosion in the field. Emily takes it upon herself to get him back to Quantico safely and Shenanigans ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I admit it. I've been reading Hotchily. 
> 
> Imported from my LJ Community, Originally posted on December 2, 2008.

Hotch looked over at her after a few miles of the chill of being watched. “What?”

 

“Nothing.” Emily replied softly, leaning her head back against the headrest.

 

Hotch shook his head, sighing. “I’m not going to break, Prentiss.”

 

“Oh, I know, Hotch. That’s not what I was thinking.” She smiled to herself at the secret thoughts scurrying around like so many mice lurking in corners.

 

“Tell me what you were thinking?” His voice matched hers in softness and tone, earnestly curious.

 

With her head propped up by an arm against her knees, Emily smiled. “I was thinking that I ought to remember this because I doubt I’ll get to see you sans tie with your sleeves rolled up many more times.”

 

He smirked. “I don’t wear a tie all the time.”

 

“You _don’t_?!” Emily gasped playfully. “I’m absolutely shocked, Agent Hotchner, I thought it was what kept your head attached.”

 

Recalling a time Jack had said the same thing to him, Hotch shook his head, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a laugh. “I do not wear a tie all the time.”

 

Nestling her chin into her open palm, Emily grinned. “Well, you look just as good without one as you do with.” No sooner had the words left her mouth than she bit her tongue, wishing she could snatch the words out of the air and shove them back into her mouth to swallow them for good. Eager for a distraction, she snatched her iPod, turning the volume up as Ballroom Blitz came on.

 

Hotch glanced over, amused at the usually cool and collected Supervisory Special Agent _fidgeting_ in her seat more than she could be accused of dancing. His lips quirked into a smile. “Can I ask you something, Pren… Emily?”

 

Emily looked over, her lip caught between her teeth. She opened her mouth, realeasing the now swollen lip, “Sure?” Hotch could swear the word was almost squeaked.

 

“Is that an FBI issue nipple ring, or what?”

 

The color drained from Emily’s cheeks, leaving only the light layer of blush that she’d powdered on that morning. “Oh God… you noticed that, huh?”

 

He held up a hand in defense. “I couldn’t help it, the AC… and, well, you know… I’m sorry. Nevermind…”

 

Emily sighed, “It’s not usually… I usually wear a more padded bra so that it’s not so obvious but today was just _so_ hot…” She was babbling and Hotch wasn’t sure if it was just him, but the babbling was almost as attractive as the metal ring he’d caught sight of pressed against her thin tanktop. “I’m sorry, si… Hotch…” She murmured. “I can take it out… if it bothers you.”

 

Eyes wide, Hotch glanced over at Emily, who was staring out the window, ears and cheeks pink. “Here? Just like that?”

 

Emily’s fists tightened on her knees, her knuckles almost white, her cheeks flushing pinker still. “Well, if it bothers you! I figured… I’d just keep it in until someone said something.” She opened one hand to make a vague gesture before closing her fist again. “I didn’t know if it was against bureau policy or not, it doesn’t exactly say in the handbook, you know.”

 

“Yeah, they like to be vague on purpose, don’t get me started on that.” Hotch glanced across the SUV out of the corner of his eye. “So a nipple ring, a navel ring, a tattoo and a tank top. Perhaps we should have rented a motorcycle for our little road trip?”

 

Why wouldn’t the seat just swallow her whole, right there? Emily pushed further back against it, her face nearly red. “Oh, you don’t miss a beat, do you, Hotch?”

 

He took his eyes off the road a moment longer to look over, taking in the beauty beside him, pink cheeks and all. His thoughts raced through his head, _How could I? You are by far one of the most beautiful and intriguing women I have ever come in contact with. Now I am in a car with you for three days and surely a motel room or two. I must be out of my mind._

 

Emily decided his silence deserved an escape tactic, blame college. “Well, you know, not everyone who goes to Yale is a stick in the mud. We’ll just… Leave it at that, what do you say?” She forced a brave smile, looking over.

 

“For now,” he said, his tone grave but his lips twitching to grin wickedly, “but I reserve the right for additional teasing when I’m drowsy.”

 

Emily scoffed. “You know, I didn’t even want the nipple ring, it was a drunken dare with a hundred bucks on the line. I only kept it because… well… what they say is true.”

 

“What who says?”

 

Time for another distraction. “Oooh, AC/DC!” Emily turned the volume up louder. Hotch shook his head, trying to keep his focus on the road, not her lips, her breasts, her hips… the way she was swaying and dancing in her seat. He urged thoughts of Mrs. Moriarty, his Kindergarten teacher, Jack’s Sunday School lessons for the week, his mother—anything to keep him from needing to explain to a highway patrolman why the Tahoe had miraculously careened into the dividing wall. All effort was lost when Emily opened her mouth, starting to sing along miraculously on-key. “ _She was a fast machine, she kept her motor clean, she was the best damn woman I had ever seen…”_

 

Hotch closed his eyes for a brief moment, _Knocking me out with those American thighs… Oh Hell yes, Prentiss, I’ll take two with a side of nipple ring and I am surely going to hell for even thinking **that**_ _... Fraternization, Strauss, Fraternization, Strauss…_

 

“ _Takin’ more than her share, had me fighting for air, she told me to come but I was already there!”_ Emily trailed off, glancing over at Hotch as a very unusual whimper escaped his lips.

 

“Emily, Emily…”

 

“Hotch, are you OK?” Emily was worried, he was acting almost delirious.

 

“I don’t think so… I’m not sure.”

 

She reached over, grasping his arm gently. “What is it, what’s wrong?”

 

“Um, nothing. I’m okay.” He glanced over her, catching the disbelief in her eyes. “I’m OK, really, Emily.” _I will be fine now that you’re not moving anymore. How can I ask you to stay still and not explain why?_ “I just… this is going to be a really long drive. I guess I just hit me.”

 

“Is my music _that_ bad? I can put something else on, I just figured the classic rock playlist would be more common ground for us…”

 

“No,” he smiled, “the music is fine. I actually love the Back in Black album. You seem to enjoy it too.” He laughed, doing a half-second mimic of her chair-dance.

 

“Hey, it’s my all time favorite AC/DC song. Their new stuff isn’t half bad, either. I love Rock ‘N Roll train.” She smiled. So Hotch was a closet rocker.

 

“ _Cover You In Oil_ is pretty good. A bit much, but pretty good,” he nodded. “I guess by the end of this, we’re going to know each other really well aren’t we?”

 

A smile spread across her lips. “We will…” _Perhaps Biblically…_ She mentally smacked herself for the thought crossing her mind.

 

Hotch, on the other hand, was mentally struggling himself, his mind suddenly filled with images of Emily’s grinding chair-dance done straddling his hips, naked in a seedy motel room, her hair down, framing her face, the nipple ring tempting him to take it into his mouth… He had to swerve when he realized he’d drifted dangerously close to the divider. Emily looked up at him, her hand still on his arm as she watched him carefully. Shaking his head clear of the desperately inappropriate thoughts, the Unit Chief sighed. “I need to relax. I never relax anymore and I’m afraid I don’t remember how…”

 

Emily laughed, sitting back. “I can think of a few ways…” she quipped under her breath.

 

“I’m sorry?” Hotch glanced back at her before training his eyes back on the road.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Uh uh, you said something. What would Garcia say here? Ah. _Spill._ ” His raised his eyebrow playfully.

 

“I said,” she groaned, cheeks flushing yet again, “I can think of a few ways.”

 

Beneath his white oxford, Hotch’s heart lurched at her words. Pretending he wasn’t out of breath at the mere thought, he licked his lips. “Really? Do tell…”

 

Rather than blurt out _me on top of you_ , Emily scrambled for ways she’d read about, trying to channel Dr. Reid’s eidetic memory. “Exercise, a good massage, a good road trip,” she gestured at the Tahoe, “maybe even a good stripper!” She laughed. So much for channeling Reid.

 

“Have you been spending time with Rossi?” Hotch chuckled as Emily wiggled her eyebrows.

 

“Maybe.”

 

“So I need a massage and a stripper, huh?” _Something tells me you could do both **and**_ _give me exercise, Agent Prentiss…_ “I don’t think I need to see a strange woman take her clothes off…”

 

“More women than strippers know hoe to strip, you know,” ahh there was he good doctor she was trying for earlier. “It’s a popular aerobic workout, now.”

 

“Oh, is it?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“Do you…”

 

There was that need to sink back into her seat again… “ _Aaron Hotchner!”_ She gaped, disbelieving that her usually stoic boss had just asked her that question.

 

“I didn’t mean—”

 

“Not that it’s any of your business but yes. I’ve taken a few classes.”

 

It was Hotch’s turn to gape. “So, yes…” he mumbled. “Well, do you enjoy it?”

 

“It’s a good workout…” she offered hoping it would deter the conversation despite Hotch now wondering if _he_ could give her a better workout. “It also helps me chase unsubs in heels.

 

“Yes, well, good exercise is important. Especially with your other dirty habits.”

 

Emily raised her eyebrow, opening her mouth before she realized he meant her cigarettes. “Speaking of…” She snatched her cigarettes up. Finally, something to put in her mouth so she could fixate _and_ not speak. She lit up a long, thin, brown clove, taking a long drag, her eyes skimming over the empty Arizona landscape. They were close to New Mexico now.

 

“When did you start that?”

 

She looked up, surprised at his question. “Odessa. I was sixteen.”  
  


“I never even tried. The Eagle Scout in me, I guess.” He watched as the smoke swirled around her, the way her lips curled around the cigarette, his body responding, reminding him just how long this trip would be.

 

Licking her lips, Emily tapped the cigarette on the open window, ashing it carefully. “So, how’s Jack?”

 

“Good,” his body quieted at the topic of his son, still humming quietly because of the woman beside him, though now controllable. “I don’t see him enough, but I make the most of every second. We talk on the phone every day. I never intended to become a part-time parent.”

 

Another long slow drag and beat. Emily sighed, exhaling, the smoke swirling toward the window. “No one ever does, really. I’ve always wanted to be a parent… JJ said that I’d be a good mom. I just… worry… ya know?”

 

“About what? You are smart, funny, strong, fun… you can regale your kids with stories of smoking cloves in Odessa and losing bets for nipple rings and threaten them with your handcuffs and police brutality when they’re out of line. You will be a great mother.”

 

“I worry that I’ll _become_ my mother. You know, have my children resent me half of their lives and by the time they’re grown have to struggle to rebuild it all…”

 

“No way,” Hotch shook his head. “I know your mother, remember? She’s a fascinating woman and you have many of her good qualities. You also have a spark that she doesn’t. An inferno, actually.”

 

She raised an eyebrow, amused at his choice of words, considering the inferno currently raging inside of her for him. “An inferno? Pray, do tell.”

 

“ _That_ sounded like your mother.” He laughed.

 

“Goddd don’t say that.” She licked her lips yet again, finishing off the clove, tossing the smoldering butt out after rolling it between her fingers a bit, the taste rolling over her lips with the smoke as she exhales. Hotch looked away, feeling once again a bit breathless from watching her. “Well?” She asked. “Inferno?”

 

Hotch grasped for words. “Everyone loves you, why would your children be any different?”

 

“That’s not answering the question, _Aaron_.”

 

“Aaron? Ouch, we are getting comfortable, aren’t we?”

 

Emily grinned wickedly, “Sounded better, I was going for annoyed. Aaron has a little more sting to it.”

 

“It really does. Are you sure you didn’t grow up in the south?” He laughed. “Okay, your inferno… it’s just more than a spark, I guess. Without you ever intending, I’m sure because you’re not that kind of person. And yet, everyone in the room gravitates toward you. Emily, do you _know_ the way men look at you?”

 

Her mouth suddenly felt very dry. “I… try to _ignore_ the way men look at me. It makes my skin crawl most of the time. Though… there are a few men that I allow the indulgence without mentally castrating them.”

 

“Those few should count themselves lucky. And if they are allowed the indulgence of getting to know you as well…” he trailed off, clearing his throat.

 

“And if that? Tell me, Hotch, how do those men count themselves? There’s only one I can think of that even fits that particular description.”

 

 _I knew it,_ Hotch thought to himself _, she is seeing someone. Dammit. There **has**_ _been something different lately, her hair maybe, the extra confidence in her walk…”_

 

“Well?” Emily swallowed, her mouth feeling like so many cotton balls as she decided to lay out her hand. She turned in her seat, resting her hip against the back so that she could face him entirely. “Tell me, Hotch. You’re the only one who knows. How does it feel?”


	3. 2000 Miles (3/3) {Complete}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hotch's ear problem is bothering him after an explosion in the field. Emily takes it upon herself to get him back to Quantico safely and Shenanigans ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I admit it. I've been reading Hotchily. 
> 
> Imported from my LJ Community, Originally Posted on December 17, 2008.

Her words echoed in his ears. _How does it feel? How does it feel? God, of all the things to have to put into words…_ “Like… walking heaven on Earth every single day. Even the incredibly bad days, and I’ve had some of them, lately…” Hotch trailed, off, glancing over at her. He couldn’t read her expression and that alone made his heart start double time.

 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

“What was I supposed to say?” Hotch’s heart was in his throat, “We’re all too close… way too close.”

 

“Hotch—”

  
Hotch cut her off. “I wanted to, believe me, but I’ve failed enough already, I don’t want to fail anymore.”

 

“—pull over.”

 

The older agent shook his head resolutely. “No.”

 

“Dammit, Hotch, pull over.” With a pointed glare and a sigh, Hotch pulled the Tahoe onto the median shoulder. His skin tingled with the distinct burn that her touch always stirred in him as she reached over, cupping Hotch’s chin. She turned his head to look into his eyes, growling lightly as he closed his. “Open your eyes. I’m not saying this without seeing them.” He obliged, slowly, the deep hazel meeting her deep chocolate eyes. “You should have told me. If you had, I wouldn’t have always felt so foolish for looking at you the way I do.”

 

“You are no fool, Emily Prentiss. You never have been.”

 

“Oh, come on, for someone who fights so hard for her reputation, I fell for my _boss_. I mean…” Emily looked up, her bangs fluttering as she exhaled in a hard sigh, leaning her head against her headrest, her ponytail curling around her neck.

 

Hotch’s eyes drew slowly up her neck and over the smooth curves of her jaw and cheekbones until he was once again eye to eye with her. “I am a man, Emily. Under the suit and the damn tie, I am a man. A broken man, but a man nonetheless. And I love you, I—” His eyes widened, realizing what he’d just said. “I’m sorry… that was inappropriate, Emily…”  
  


A smile crept over her lips, “Don’t eve apologize for saying that, Hotch… I love you too.”

 

“Maybe one day you can tell your kids that you had the crappiest declaration of love ever… in a Tahoe.” A smile cracked his lips and Emily couldn’t help but return it widely. She so loved his smile. Without even thinking, the usually reserved Agent Prentiss found herself leaning toward Agent Hotchner, her boss, her superior… the man she was in love with, pressing her lips against his gently. Hotch tried to lean closer, pressing his tongue against her slightly trembling lips, damning the center console between them, the gear shift poking into his ribs as he pulled her closer. He couldn’t help but notice that her lips tasted like ambrosia as she parted them, but her mouth tasted like vanilla and coffee and just the faintest hint of clove and smoke, all swirled together in a taste that he would forever remember as Emily… Emily, Emily, sweet delicious Emily. He couldn’t believe the whimper that escaped his own lips as, gasping for air, Emily pulled away.

 

“Hotch…”

 

“Hmmm?”  
  


“God I—” Emily needed to be careful, these words just kept tumbling out of her mouth unbidden, “—I want you so badly right now.” The whine of want and desperation sounded so foreign to her own ears. Emily Prentiss didn’t whine, at least not in the last twenty years.  
  


Hotch nodded, his lips flushed, eyes glazed with hunger. “There’s a rest stop ahead… about 15 miles from here. A little motel…” He saw the hesitation in Prentiss’s eyes, “Hopefully not a dangerous one.” He knew both of their minds were flickering back to Floyd Hansen. 

 

Emily nodded, pressing her lips together, her desperation evident in her eyes and the sudden rash of fidgeting. She turned back to face the road, taking a deep breath before uttering the single word, “Drive.”

 

Not needing to be told twice, Hotch turned the car back on, pulling back out onto the road, pumping the gas as if his life depended on it. Both of their minds were racing _Oh God, this is real…_ reeling… _So soon… So soon, I’ll be inside of her…_ grasping for coherent thought, _He said he loved me… this can’t be real…_ It felt like both seconds and years as they pulled up to the motel. Emily grabbed her cloves, hopping out before Hotch even had the Tahoe in park, watching as he practically tumbled from the car, turning, boyish smile crossing his lips. “Wait here for me. I’ll get the room.”

 

He rushed through the entrance, setting his credit card on the counter, groaning silently as an impossibly elderly woman stood creakily, making her way eversoslowly to the counter, checking him in with deliberate and measured movements. Taking a deep breath, eyes closed, Hotch tried his damnedest to remain patient, but he could not help tapping his foot impatiently. After all, the woman that starred in his most recent and vulgar fantasies was sucking the smoke from a clove on the other side of the bulletproof glass door, waiting just as eagerly for him so they could dive headlong into their wanton fantasies. 

 

She was so close but so far away, he could still smell her heat and perfume on her skin, still taste the mingling of spice and vanilla on his tongue. He looked up as she flicked the cigarette, walking in. Emily slipped an arm around his waist, leaning against him as the elderly woman, _Flora_ her nametag read, handed him two keycards. “Room 214.” With nearly superhuman speed, Hotch grasped Emily’s long, slender fingers, tangling them with his, pulling her through the doorway into the dusty afternoon, tripping up the iron staircase like a desperate teenager on prom night, the prom queen hot on his heels. Hotch cursed his fingers as he fumbled with the key until those long, slender fingers snatched it from his grasp, unlocking the door with a firm ease of a woman in control. As if he needed another reason to want Emily Prentiss more than he did. She flicked her wrist over the doorknob, easing into the doorway. Hotch closed the door with his foot in one fluid motion as he grasped her hips, turning her and pulling her into a hot, hungry kiss, pouring two years of desire unspoken into her mouth, his body stirring as her simple response was a moan that shook his lips and reverberated down into his very core. There was a flurry of motion as Emily’s hands deftly worked away Hotch’s pants, pausing only for him to lift the tank top off of her.

 

Once free of those and moving slowly toward the bed, Emily began to unbutton his dress shirt, pushing it open, her fingers exploring the expanse of skin, tripping over his nipples, trailing over the sparse sprinkling of chest hair. Hotch’s hands were exploring similarly, fingers tracing over the birthmark above her right breast near her collar bone, memorizing the lace of her bra, shivering at the feeling of the small metal ring beneath the delicate fabric. He thanked God and the saints when his fingers eased over the front clasp on her bra, snapping it open easily, watching with hungry eyes as the cups fell away, revealing the most perfect breasts he’d ever seen, hard pale nipples eager for his attention, the little silver ring sparkling in the dim hotel light. He dipped his head down, taking her nipple into his mouth, rolling the ring around with his tongue. Her long black locks tickled over the hand grasping her back as Emily tossed her head back, eyes rolling as a loud moan trickled over her lips. “Oh… Hotch…” One hand still grasping her back, supporting her as her knees grew weaker, Hotch’s other hand slowly eased down her stomach, deftly unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans, pushing them off her hips quickly. His thoughts were battling, torn between wanting to lavish her, loving and gentle, and wanting to ravish her, hard and fast.

 

Emily felt his delay, noticed his pause, and lifted her head, her eyes searching his. She reached up, cupping his face gently with her hands, smiling knowingly, seeing the conflict in them. “Please, Aaron…” her voice was soft, the name was different this time, gentle but needy, “take me now… We can make love all we want later but this time… I _need_ this… we _need_ this.” In one fluid movement, Hotch tugged her panties and his boxers of and immediately sank into the wet heat of her. She cried out as he filled her, uttering his name, “ _Hotch,”_ in a half gasp, half moan that reverberated in his chest as he slowly pulled out before settling back in.

 

“Oh God,” he gasped, “Oh my God… Damn, baby…” He caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers, smiling down at her before dipping his head down, taking her nipple, ring and all, into his mouth, rolling his tongue over her nipple, catching the ring with his teeth, tugging lightly, and then not so lightly, moaning at the sounds that were coming out of Emily’s mouth. She was his, all his… God, did he ever love her. “So beautiful, Emily,” he murmured against her skin, his hot breath skipping across her wet flesh. “So beautiful.”

 

Emily grasped at his shoulder, whimpering, her other hand tangled in the sheets of the anonymous hotel room as she leveraged herself to slowly begin rocking with him, meeting his rhythm stroke for stroke. “God… Hotch you’re—you’re so amazing…” Her hand slipped down from his shoulder, tracing over his chest in invisible patterns.

 

“You’re more so, I promise.” He kissed her gently as his hand eased down between them, his fingers seeking out the tiny nub beneath her folds, pinching it between his fingers, pulling back just enough to watch her face, knowing that he wanted to see and feel when she came. She leaned up, capturing his mouth with hers, hungry to taste him with her tongue. He returned the kiss for a passionate moment before pulling back again, desperate to see the want in her eyes. “I love you,so much… oh Emily I c—I can’t hold on.”

 

“Oh…” She made a little moan before growing louder, “Fuck, baby… Hotch I’m—” She cried out loudly. “ _Aaron_! I’m c—Ohhh God, I’m coming!” She rocked hard against him one last time, her body trembling as she tightened around him with a sharp cry, her nails digging into his shoulder as she pulled him tight.

 

He groaned loudly, trying to keep his breath from leaving him as he felt himself falling with a simple cry, “ _Emily!_ ” He thrust into her a few more times, milking his ogasm before pulling her close, his body shivering from the intensity.

 

Pressing against him, Emily gasped, whispering almost inaudibly. “Oh God, Hotch…”  
  


“Yeah?” He whispered back, breathlessly kissing her.

 

“I love you.”

 

“I love you too, Emily Prentiss. And you are allowed to handcuff me, should I ever fail you.”

 

She grinned wickedly, eyebrow raised. “Can I handcuff you if I just wanna play?”

 

“Absolutely.” He laughed, collapsing against the lumpy mattress, pulling her into his arms. 

 

She curled against him, smiling. “So, how long does it take you to recover, there, big boy?”

 

“I’m a 40-something, non-smoking male in excellent health who is holding the woman he wants more than anything… …ten minutes, tops.”

 

“Good because, baby, that was too amazing for just once.”

 

Smiling again, Hotch caught himself marveling that this woman who had been in his life for so long could make him smile so much in the span of a few hours. “I can’t believe this is happening. I… I’m going to wake up in a minute in that Phoenix hotel room. Well, how can I wake up if I don’t sleep? I don’t sleep.”

 

“Oh, you’ll sleep tonight.” The sex in her voice was undeniable as she leaned so that her mouth was pressed against his ear, her tongue flicking out over his lobe. “I’ll wear you down until you have no choice.”

 

Hotch groaned, feeling his cock twitch at her words. “Well, when you put it like that…” He rolled onto his back, pulling her so that her body was on top of his. “Time’s up.” With a twist of her hips, Emily started grinding over his stiffening length, grinning widely. Hotch moaned again, feeling her wetness against his sensitive skin. “Do you know how good you make me feel? I don’t think you do. I can’t even invent the words to _tell_ you.”

 

“You make me feel just as good baby.”

 

“Is that why you’re wearing that beautiful smile?” He shifted his body so that the throbbing head of his dick teased at her opening. 

 

She moaned, softly this time. “That or the big ol’ _piece_ you’re teasing me with.” She glanced down and raised an eyebrow. “Jesus, Hotch… I didn’t know you were packing _that_ much…”  
  


“I’m a gentleman,” he chuckled, “I don’t show my hand while the game is still…” He thrust into her, “…in play.”

 

She moaned again, lifting her hips until she was almost off of him. Taking command, Hotch grabbed her hips, pulling her back down so that she was sitting on his erection, watching her head roll back in ecstasy as she repeated the motion, moving up before sinking down onto his girth. “Ohhh fuck… Hotch…” She moaned, breathless.

 

“Mmm,” he replied, “oh yeah… that’s it, Em… you look so beautiful. So beautiful.” He closed his eyes tightly, committing the sight of her, head thrown back in bliss, to memory.

 

He held tighly to her hips, easing her up and down, his own thrusts meeting her in perfect time. He was sure, he thought, that this would kill him. _But what a wonderful fucking death…_ The younger woman ground her hips down before lifting and lowering eagerly at his pace, rocking and riding him. Her mouth was slack with a constant gasping whimper, strangled moans slipping out when he thrust just so. “Fuck… Aaron, I…”

 

Opening his eyes, Aaron Hotchner simply watched her. “Don’t stop now,” he finally said, “this is the really good part.” She obeyed, rocking harder and faster, grasping one of his hands from her hip, raising it to rest on her breast, his fingers brushing the nipple ring, instinctively grasping it. He lowered his other hand so that his fingers brushed over her clit, causing her to moan again. _Ever the Eagle Scout, multitasking to reach my ends,_ he thought to himself. She cried out again, louder this time, nearly screaming his name over and again, rocking faster and harder. He could tell she was close. “Come on, baby, come on. You’re so close, I want to see your face, I want to make you see the stars the same way I do—oohh yes, Emily!” He squeezed her breast gently, rolling his fingers over her nipple.

 

Emily cried out again, slamming down on him, her body starting to quake again. Her muscles squeezed tightly around him, drawing him deeper into her as she cried out. “ _Aaron-fucking-Hotchner, I—I—I’m coming… **fuck**_ _!”_

 

“YES!” he cried, arching his back and holding down her hips as he let go with her, pulling her tight so that she could feel it as much as he did. She moaned again, softer this time, collapsing against him as she felt him fill her.

 

“Fuck… Hotch…”

 

“Holy… mmm…”He pressed his mouth against hers in an urgent kiss.

 

“Baby…”

 

“Mmm?”

 

“My body is so pissed that it took us two years to finally do that,” she said with a chuckle.

 

“Hey now, don’t kill my body’s high. He’ll make up for it,” he ran his hands down her naked back, cupping her buttocks. “He’s good for it.”

 

She gasped softly, grinning. “Oh, Hotch.”

 

“You’re so… You know, one of these days, I’m going to get the words right. I adore you. I love you. That will do for the moment.”

 

“I love you too, Aaron.” She kissed his neck gently. “So are we staying here for the night or attempting to get back on the road?”

 

“Well… seeing as I can’t move right now… I think that answers that question.” He laughed. “One more thing, though.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“You have to tell me what they say and why it’s true. You know… the nipple ring?”

 

Emily grinned wickedly. “The nipples are second, I believe, only to the clitoris or penis in the number of nerve endings in the tissue. So… super sensitive.” She grinned wider. “Now, imagine a bar of metal through that tissue that can be cold or hot, adding _extra_ sensation on top of the fingers or lips or tongue already assaulting it.”

 

Hotch gasped involuntarily. “My imagination just happens to be that active. I am also going to need you to say the word ‘clitoris’ about twenty more times before we return to Quantico.” His fingers toyed with the ring again, musing as Emily whimpered again at his new favorite piece of metal. “This is going to be a long night,” he grinned, rolling them onto the mattress once again.

 

 


End file.
